Dances with the Vulture
by athenares
Summary: A twist of events overturns Zeus and forces him to witness a promise of Olympus turning to ash. To buy more time he needed to pass the crown but with only the war god as his legitimate son, he has to place an equal as a wife to balance equations and prevent every doom to come. Athena becomes the sacrificial bride, now to be torn between duty, lies, power...and carnal lust.
1. Chapter 1

CRONOS has escaped.

* * *

"Have you known how yet?"

"No..."

"Time is running, Zeus. We cannot waste any more."

"I've tried."

"It is only treachery that let him out of the gallows."

"Even if it were, I do not know who would have."

* * *

"What now? Another harvest has passed, another year."

* * *

"Zeus..."

"I will do it."

"...you can't."

"Hush those tears. I have to. It is only the way."

"It will put us quicker to the ashes."

"We can buy the time."

"...Zeus."

"It is the only way..."

"...it is insane."

"This world has been insane, it is into us if we will be corrupted as well."

"We shouldn't have done it..."

"Do not blame yourself. It was I that led us into this..."

"You are mad. He is a brute."

"Your worries will _kill_ you, Hera."

"It will if you put him on the void that you leave!"

"He is the _only_ choice."

Hera wailed, anxiety passionate on her face. She gripped on the hair behind her ears and rocked back and forth, her knees not leaving the carpeted floor.

Zeus looked on to the salmon sky. He was worn down with the familiar stress. His goddess wife had become invisible behind him. There was nothing more he could say that would console her. She had become soft and soiled in agony and it was him that fed her to those monsters. Time, indeed, was lapsing. He recalled the misty words like a song that goes about his head:

 _From your banquet of betrayal I saved a morsel of your own dish...yes, for you to taste._

He needed to vanish to the dust. He needed to die.

* * *

It broke him to see her. Athena was a passionate one, she is the jewel to his crown, and he loves her as the love he bore for a daughter. And here she is, made up with a smile on her lips and adoration on her eyes that hid the depression lurking beneath.

"Father," she bent to kiss his brow. He kissed her cheek and she perched on the side of his bed.

"You look lovely," Zeus said. She had always been a beautiful one. Not as golden as Aphrodite, but she had silver in her eyes that glittered like seashells, muddy brown hair that luster like copper and fire in daytime, and full lips like petal folds and dimples on each cheek. Athena was fit for a diadem than any other diety. She was forged from steel and stone and molded with a flower gardener's hand, she is a warrior and a fairy enigmatically fused in one shell.

She looked away, towards the balcony that displayed the setting sun and spewed a color of burning coals. Apollo was near to returning.

"You should see the clouds, father. They're much more lovely."

"Oh they are,"

"You're not looking at them."

"But I know they are,"

Athena sighed and looked down. "You called for me,"

"I did. You know why." He gave her the glassy stare that dissipated her inch by inch.

But her lips dripped avarice. "It will not happen."

"Athena," Zeus covered his feeble hand on hers. She flinched. "It must."

Her stomach coiled as if venom spurned and she revolted. Immediately she snapped and stood at the balcony. "You are madder by the day."

"I am dying, Athena."

She turned to him, fierce as the goddess she is and eyes burning, "You only need to bend the knee and all this will cease."

And so it hit him. She does not understand the order of it all. She was yet a child, a child said to be loyal to her duties and innocent to the falseness of this world.

"Bend the knee, father," she suppressed the pain that breaks her every time she laid eyes on him now sick on his death bed.

"You denounce your throne, put a _devil_ on your stead and for what? The night you laid the laurels on his head, he has not even bothered to gratify you! Laid nectar and ambrosia on the table and forced all to be merry while you lay here like a corpse." She broke in tears, "I endured it, father. We all have. He is careless and hateful, and no one loves him. Only he knows where his whoring leads him, his warmongering, his..."

Zeus could only hear on, closing his eyes.

Athena sniffed after a bitter sob and straightened her stance. "And now you are bidding me to be his _queen_."

"You are the most fit." Zeus' voice was small.

"I might slit his throat,"

"Do that and you've doomed us all."

She choked back tears and anger in a gulp.

"Athena..." Zeus pleaded, "your wisdom leads you thinking I am true. If not you would not be despaired."

"There are others." She bit her lower lip, "Aphrodite, his bitch. They've had children."

"He needs a queen, my child. Not a muse. Queens will lead their husbands when they go astray. They fight for their Kings. They remind their kings of their duties. Muses are weak, and stupid. They merely flaunt their beauty and sleep and drink with their Kings and do not care whether their husbands are ill. Ares is ill."

"Let him die of the illness."

Zeus fell silent.

Athena gripped on the railings of the balcony. Joy had abandoned her and laid her on a bed of a viper. "This is too much."

Father stilled, unspoken and hapless. He rested his eyes and called off all hope. "Be it as you wish, my child. I am tired."

The goddess looked at him and very sight of him crumpled her face. She walked towards the bed and squeezed herself on her father's side. Taking his hand, she achingly embraced it on her neck, her shoulders trembled in pangs and eyes oozed with tears. "Have I been disobedient, father? Are you punishing me?"

A tear slipped from Zeus' fading sky eyes. "Oh Athena, oh how you doubt me..." he spread his fingers on her cheek. "You know how much I love you, child. You know it. I am not punishing you...I am trusting you. You are all that's left to rule with your brother and lead him to our salvation—your salvation. Oh daughter," he moved both hands to pull her into his chest and she curled by his side, her slippers not minded to be removed as it touched the sheets. "It has to be him, child, you know why."

Athena nodded. Ares was the legitimate son. Zeus had hundreds of sons, and it happened his only son with his queen acted more of a bastard than his bastard brothers.

"And he, you said so, is displeasing."

"He is a worm." Athena spoke bitterly, her voice muffled by the cloth on her father's chest.

"And the birds are about to peck on him, child. We will not have that." Zeus continued, squeezing on her arm. She trembled. "He will hold Olympus to sort these plagues. And he will not—cannot—do this alone. He needs guidance. He needs you."

"He needs my cunt and my belly, the rest of me will be thrown to his dogs."

He kissed her forehead, almost smiling. "Will you let that happen, sweetling?"

She shook her head. "Why can't we have more time, father?"

"I am now the time, sweet one."

She tightened her embrace on Father.

"And I am fading. I have failed you. I have put this on you, and this is redemption."

"You are a good king," she sniffed, "but I hate your womanizing. You should stop that. Perhaps it will save you.

Both chuckled. He was smiling now. He was always amused of her daughter's bluntness.

"The good does not always prevail, child. Not in a place where evil feeds. Cronos—my father—has cursed me with this illness. I am thankful he has not materialized yet, or else I would not have survived his blow. We fought him, his escape. You know that." Father recalled. "That day I felt his hurt and ire for our betrayal—his children's betrayal. Bestowing me his mercy as his son, he did not kill me. But he dealt with me. And you know it all."

Again she broke into tears and thought of centuries of memory she would never go back to. _Oh mercy!_ She prayed for the first time, and innocent of whom to. She would have broken that vow, she was willing if it were for Olympus, but oh gods... _oh gods no_...she thought of whom to be subjective with and her stomach coiled with nothing but feisty ire.

The dark scarlet eyes that bore the weight of blood, the sacrilegious mouth, the love for harlotry. He was plain evil: sitting on her... _their_...father's throne and licking the blood off his favorite dagger.

 _Gods be damned!_

* * *

 ** _athenares_**

 _would love to read your thoughts_

xx


	2. Chapter 2

She blinked at the grandiosity that spread before her: the lanterns beautifully sprawled in all directions, their colors ranging pink, purple, and gold flecks; the trees were bright silver tonight, reflecting about the high pillars across the garden. Around her the cloudless night sky spread and all the stars seemed to worship her, doing obeisance on the very daisy smell that dispersed from her pores.

She gathered damp golden hair on one shoulder and the water that soaked her body made gentle ripples that faded before reaching the tiles around the pool's perimeter. A long and milky hand reached out to the goblet on her side and she neared it to sweet lips. It smelled of fused grape and blueberries, and ale. She took a sip and went about brooding over Olympus before her.

Awhile she raised the goblet to an invisible spectator to make a toast. A frustrated toast, to specify. Her golden eyes widened and she swallowed whilst lifting her chin proudly. _Here's to me, woe to you, Olympus, for not having me as your queen._

"Come back here, Aphrodite,"

His dark voice echoed in her ears and she was deaf to it. Instead she neared the tip of the goblet on her lips and began to twirl the remaining wine to strengthen the scent. She spread her legs on the water and it made a gentle wave.

A body lay lax on the regal bed across the silvery pool. Arms folded behind his head, he let his nakedness be witnessed by the shadows that swathed the _hall_. His head twisted handsomely but impatient, his eyes glowed scarlet. "I said come back here."

Aphrodite sighed but never tipped her head to him. This spurred him on. "Your king commands you."

This time her eyes met his. She was bathed in moonlight and the droplets that remained on her face made her skin glow further. "Your _whore_ is bathing, my King. Perhaps he could see for himself." And looked away, back to the glittering palace she was supposed to have and now about to lose.

He suppressed a snigger whilst his eyes rolled and his arms disentangled to help himself rise from the bed. The marbled floor was cool against his feet and he made soft tapping sounds towards the pool. Aphrodite remained glaring. Her blood began to curdle watching the ripples against her body as he lowered himself on the water and proceeded to draw near.

The view left her eyes when his face hovered before her, and instead she saw the red glow. His hands squirmed on her thighs and left locked on the pleasant curve of her waist. He pressed his abdomen to cram her hips between his own and the tiles behind her. Trying to catch her sight, he coaxed her with a coy play.

"Aw, stop that..." he goaded, attempting to steal her breath but she rolled her eyes and did her best to avoid the unsolicited attention. He was grinning through and through and it made her burn further. He smelled the smoke that came from the fire.

"Come now, I am to be wed, not to be executed," he stilled her, firming his grip on her small waist, sending a temporary sting of pain. She twitched the edges of her lips and met his eyes after placing the goblet aside. "You promised to not get wed."

He was backed, and tilted his head after a burst of chuckle, "And I meant to, but it was all a part of the deal. I cannot dip a finger to that, besides," he began to trace the curved flesh under his palm, "The bed can accommodate more than one, can it not?"

Aphrodite clenched her teeth and pushed him against his heaving chest muscles. The water around them swelled with currents as she strode to the other edge of the pool, where Olympus was even closer and nearer. She placed her hands on the tiles and continued to stare the sheer magnificence of the palace. The god behind her twisted his lips in frustration and ran a hand across his dark hair, the water droplets made way through his scalp and half the stubble in his face. He moved to her once more, threatening in silence that he would shove her off the edge if she wouldn't sate his swelling thirst.

His hands caught her either sides once more, much firmer this time, and hungrier. His body pressed heavily so her lean back was forced against his well-muscled torso. He buried his face on her nape and the smell of lavender filled his nose until his lips played on her earlobe. Aphrodite writhed but he locked her in place, leading her to just give up.

"Now aren't you a selfish beauty," he whispered, "To be jealous of _my_ marriage. Have the tables been turned now?"

Aphrodite tried to push him through her elbows out of the anger that boiled. But he was every inch the war god now and his voice dripped off malice. "Tell me, sweetheart, truly it isn't the marriage that bothers you now, is it? What is _she_ to y—oh my. Ah..." His eyes widened in a sadistic glee, "No, don't tell me...ha, the throne, is it?"

Again Aphrodite struggled but the more he wound around her.

"I should have known, you sadden me," he bit his lower lip to imitate genuineness but she was more than aware of his game, "Don't you worry, my love, I'd be writing a decree making you the royal mistress."

"You _bastard!_ " Aphrodite can only squeal.

"Careful now," he hushed her, "The _bastard_ is chosen for the throne."

With this she laughed, giving him the chance to doubt his own suaveness. When the heaving of her shoulders died down, she rested her head on his shoulder and temporarily forgot she used to wave him off.

"What's funny...?" he demanded.

"Perhaps _she_ was the real one chosen for the throne," she purred, "But she has breasts and you have the cock, therefore you'd make a lovely pawn to tuck her in."

The war god wasn't pleased at all. Quickly he spun her so he'd see the gravity of mocking in her lovely face. His eyes burned. "Take that back now," he commanded bitterly. When she was unmoved, it was his turn to mock her. A grin split across his face. "You have the ambition of a fox, I understand. Won't you want to join in the bedding, watch herenjoy her husband and perhaps teach her loyalty?"

Aphrodite glared poisonously as she raised a palm to his cheek but he was quicker than a viper and pinned both her arms on the tiles behind her. She looked golden even in loathing, and his eyes fell on the tousled locks of sunshine down to the breasts he enjoyed so much. He'd miss them. But perhaps he won't. He looked at the eyes that spoke to him of jealousy and frustrated ambition.

"Do you think her desirable?" she raved. It left his jaw agape but his lips curled in an amused smile. He thought of _her_ , and nothing else had broke into him but hate. When he learned she was the promised bride, half of him wanted to burn Olympus down and half of him flicked with contained excitement. Athena was a beast, he was sure of it. He watched her fight and he hated the eyes that challenged him to a century of duel, the face that wounded his immortality and his pride during the battle of Troy. But he was forced to admit she was skilled with swords...how his groin throbbed to test her skills with _his sword_ too. Who would have thought his rival in the battlefield would succumb to him on rank?

"Uck," he fussed, and swore he saw a hidden smile in Aphrodite. "She's a virgin for Zeus' sake, they bore me. But I do love a woman who can learn."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes and turned her back on him once more. For a time she thought of Hephaestus sulking on the arsenal, forging and reforging metal by metal until the sun makes its first light. When she was gone he knew, he knew it all along and spends the night awake clanging iron and making water hiss in all his loneliness and frustration. It wasn't her fault, she would tell him. She wasn't an object to be used, she wasn't just a prize to be given away when someone had done Zeus a favor. She had emotions; she was the goddess of Love for heavens' sake.

His lips began to moisten her already damp shoulders and she closed her eyes. She thought of this last night he would be hers. She thought of the grey-eyed goddess she wasn't considering any match for her; but she materialized the diadem on her forehead, the queen of Olympus, and her stomach twitched with envy. The grey-eyed on will take everything from her on the morrow.

She gasped and rolled her head back when pleasure grazed on her thighs. Her breasts quivered under his palm and her hips welcomed the familiar lust that broke in and out of her. His groans were enough to finish her instead. He was so beautiful, and he was hers, and she's losing him on the morrow.

But maybe not.


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time she felt old as if all millennia immortality tricked had finally taken its toll on her. The breeze, once warm and mint fragrant, crept on her pores like maggots and filled her nose with the putrid stench of rotten flesh.

She stared at the porcelain mirror, at the reflection of a woman swathed in robes that glowed like the silver in her eyes. She couldn't recognize her. What used to be an ensign of femme strength and independence was now stripped off her skin. Tonight she will denounce her celibacy to the heavens; tonight she will be owned. And she might have already wept blood at the dishonour of being tied to the one she detested best.

Nike had been busy enough and blushing as the child goddess she is. There is absolutely nothing to be merry about, Athena wanted to provoke her, but she found herself dead behind the wedding garbs. As the tiara was tucked between the elaborate coils of her perfumed hair, the bride was ready. The night would be long as rituals would proceed and she felt nothing but the want to run away.

When she was summoned, Athena gave only a nod and straightened herself with the coldest, saddest sigh. Midway towards the double pillars leading out of the room she halted at a noble presence and found herself face to face with the wife of her father.

Hera's emerald orbs looked on to her, and Athena felt a genuine cry of pity sang to her like requiem. Hera had never been particularly nice to her, as she was with any extra marital children of Zeus but tonight Athena was comforted by the touch of Hera's palm on her cold cheek. A glitter of tear sprung on the edges of Hera's eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

Athena found herself muted by such empathy which came from one who once was cold to her. She managed to force a weak smile in response.

"If there was any other way, child, your father would..."

At this Athena sniffed as her face crumpled and Hera was forced to move her hand away. Athena didn't know which part she was supposed to cry for, if it were the word _child_ coming from Hera herself, or from the sympathy that came from the mother of a monster. At this Hera pulled the bride close and gently planted a kiss on her forehead. There was no other taste in the kiss but of pure tears. No bitterness of having to pass the queenship, no jealousy, nothing else but sad hope.

Athena accepted the kiss as if Hera was her mother herself before she was again left alone to mourn her sacrifice.

It wasn't too long, though, when her blood turned cold at an eerie breeze that swept through the pillars.

"That," a deep, sugar coated voice purred from behind her, feigning compassion, "...was wonderful."

"What are you doing here...?" Athena's body stiffened with ire.

Ares' eyes glowed like live coals in midnight. Slowly he surfaced from the shadows in the most regal armor adorned for a king. His breastplate was gold and embossed with two spears crossed above a Spartan shield. His shoulders were draped with the finest crimson and flowed behind down to his ankles. Worn by him, the thick cape almost represented a waterfall of blood.

"Watching you..." his whisper was like death to her. She was spooked if it were true he had been here all this time from the moment she dipped herself on the bridal pool until dressed.

"You can't be here," she spat and spun her back to him, "It's bad luck enough I have to say vows to you, what more do you want? Leave."

For a split second, Ares felt the desire to materialize his spear and strike her down. He composed his frozen jaw and stretched a smug across his face, and moved towards her. The nearing taps sent Athena's mind into a wild fire, but she needed to keep the ice on her head lest she will ruin the plan and doom them all.

"My dear...dear _wife_ ,"

Athena gritted her teeth at the familiar voice that sounded like the flow of Styx itself. Her flesh turned to rock when his hand rested on her lower back, "I understand we've been..."

She suppressed a breath when his fingers began to spread on her skin.

"...We've been un...-friendly since the beginning of time..."

"You. Can't. Touch. Me," she spoke between gritted teeth.

"Says who...?" Ares smirked against her neck. He pressed her on his golden breastplate, and sent a shudder under her skin, "We're man and wife now...technically. Father has married us the day he proclaimed his testaments...and from what I've seen earlier, Mother likes you too..." he chuckled, "You are so. So full of _luck._ "

In all her life, Athena would confess she felt true fear now, evident on the tears that began to moisten her eyes. She wanted to disappear. She wanted the marble floors to split below them and swallow her to death like the Kraken did with Argos. For the first time she wanted to die instead.

Ares smelt this and it excited him further. He finally had her under his palm.

"The ceremonies," Athena sniffed, "They're waiting..."

The short forced laughter that came from him terrified her better. Has her fear of losing herself to him too blatant now?

"Damn the ceremony, love, it can wait till the morrow. Besides," he slid a hand across her shoulder to push off the thick strap and expose milky white flesh. Ares couldn't help himself swallowing before whispering, "I thirst a virgin's blood tonight."

A jolt of madness stabbed through Athena and quickly she pushed the war god and swung her palm but the effort did not take her far. Ares caught the deadly strike by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her. Athena choked on the whimper that nearly escaped her throat.

"You would fight me?" his words were venom, "Do it and Olympus would know how the queen denied her king of her noble duty...you would set that example, would you?" he twisted further. The fact that he had her finally under pain and control was enough to have him release. His manhood was beginning to fill with lust, and he shook her stiffly with an emphasis, "Would you!?"

The first tear of defeat made way from her eyes and power slowly ebbed from her resistance and her pained arm. Feeling her weaken, Ares half-smirked with victory, "Thought so...now," he pulled her close again so that their bodies touched, her back against his chest. He caught her jaw and forced her to stare at their image reflected on the mirror, "...I want you to look."

Athena pursed her lips and braved her eyes to see their gait no matter how horrifying it was to the world. There is no room for retaliation now, she reckoned. Let anything happen tonight while she is weakened.

"I want you to watch...a heroine's defeat..."

It had all been vengeance in his mind, this bastard. Athena realized, little by little numbed by the sound of tearing robes and snapping ribbons. She let herself become a corpse and gawked at her naked upper body, with an arm encircling her waist and snaking towards a breast. She flinched and lost her breath with every grab and stroke that warmed him. He will not be gentle yes, but she anticipated this and will endure as the war goddess she is.

Ares was on the brink of satiation. This will be one of the best nights of his immortal life: to watch her cringe, to hear her whimper, to taste her blood, and feel her pain. It was undeniable this was his redemption from the insults and discomfort she stashed on him, and more undeniable the fact that he wanted to violate her before marriage. It wasn't as if he actually lusted for her, but he lusted to see her fall. He bit her on the nape like a rabid dog does to a prey and manoeuvred her towards the edge of the bed, only to push her down the mattress.

She felt his weight on her nakedness and he came face to face with her as their noses touched and she basked on his lustful heat. Ares brushed his fingers on her lips as they locked stares, scarlet against silver. He wanted to absorb fear from her eyes and finding none of it except contempt only spurred him on.

"Have you ever wondered how _this_ felt, Athena?" he whispered, straining against her sex.

"I would've," she looked at him filled with vile, but unmoved, "If it weren't you on top of me right now."

Athena smiled to herself sensing the minute crash of insult on the way his face hardened. He might have chortled out of amusement, yes, but Ares was made up of pretensions which were easily read like an open book.

"Would you prefer father in my stead, then?" Ares bit his lower lip as he smirked. And Athena swore she wanted to break that face and that insolent mouth. "Don't you dare…" her face crumpled, unable to hide the fury and sadness at the mention of her—their—dying sire. Ares reckoned with glee to discover what could make her weak in the knees and began to slip his hand from her mouth to her chest and down between the folds of silk which veiled her virginity.

"Why not, love?" Ares goaded, "Surely he was good, given the number of women he…"

Athena's eyes flew open and glared whilst tears gathered at the rims when two of his fingers tore deeply through her sex without warning. Suddenly she shivered, so much for a mind distressed to the point of insanity and a body which was supposed to be never accustomed to animalistic desires and doings. She wanted to riot, to rage and fume against her father for forcing her in this a filthy act with the filthiest god ever known.

Above her Ares' smile was so prevalent seeing the nausea on her face and the tear that slid from her eye. And yes he meant to see that face until the morning. He slid in and out twice but that was never meant to please her. Thus he moved out of her dry and pierced the air with the sound of torn silk against her legs and his own wedding garb, glowering and smiling at the same time at the horror that reflected on her eyes as piece by piece of him exposed.

There both his hands spread her legs and at once he placed himself between and ripped her through, deep and sore without concern nor dignity. Athena finally sobbed whilst biting the wall of her mouth until she tasted blood. Her body was tender against his rigid one, for that she finally welcomed defeat at the pain he thirsted. Against her, he was restless and hungry as if his life depended on raping her. For every tear and that slipped off she was all sorts of ugly emotions. She was sure she would have died when Ares' fingers began to tighten around her neck, his devilish smirk rife above her as he commanded...

"Bleed for me."

* * *

Reviews are love. Thank you...


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